


Prequel

by kamidog, trufield



Series: Harry S. Truman: One Man Animal Rescue [1]
Category: Twin Peaks
Genre: And a little bit of angst, Cooper would be most happy to know his friends are happy don't you think?, M/M, first impressions of a Harry S Truman, it just takes them some time, set during events in S1 and 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamidog/pseuds/kamidog, https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufield/pseuds/trufield
Summary: Of course Cooper had known before anyone else...





	Prequel

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been enjoying this series check out [this exciting news!](http://superkamiokande.tumblr.com/post/164799540042/finally-i-can-officially-announce-what-ive-been)
> 
> [Dates for each section: 1978, 25 Feb, 27 Feb, 3 Mar, 6 Mar, 19 Mar, 20 Mar, 27 Mar-2 Apr 1989]

Albert was grateful the bureau had never made a big deal out of his age, they had chosen him after all. Start them young and keep them for life was probably a good reason but Albert liked to think they saw beyond it and regarded him most for his professional skill. Although he _did_ think it was one of the reasons Gordon seemed so insistent he buddy up with Dale Cooper but perhaps that was just the chip on his shoulder. 

After his typical initial distrust he found Cooper to be surprisingly good company. Albert's acerbic, barbed commentary ran off him like water from a duck but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate Albert's wit. His manner took a little getting used to - Albert had first thought him to be a few brain cells short and then just naive - but Cooper was thankfully neither. So Albert was graced with the rare prospect of a competent colleague and maybe someone he would even call his friend. 

A friend he became, with surprising rapidity. They met outside of work hours regularly and got to know each other better. Cooper never tired of conversation and was always interesting. Occasionally, like tonight, they would return to Albert's apartment. 

Cooper also had a gift for derailing conversation in a controlled, effortless manner that only ever made it feel like a planned diversion rather than a hijacking. A pied piper leading their words to topics he wished by way of avenues Albert would sometimes rather not tread. Tonight seemed to be steering Albert in that direction, he really couldn't say how they'd arrived at _this_ subject. 

Cooper was waxing poetic about his love for all of the wonderful, beautiful people in the world and how they inspired him to work harder each and every day to make the world a better place. How perhaps even one day, if he was lucky enough, he might even get to call one such beautiful, wonderful person his spouse. Albert should have expected him to be a hopeless romantic. 

“For all your talk of love for humanity and your respect for individual personalities, you never fail to mention how _physically pleasing_ those that interest you are,” Albert pointed out. 

Cooper had the decency to be slightly taken aback but recovered with his usual grace, and actually appeared to re-think his opinions in the light of this revelation. A moment of silent introspection passed over him before Cooper turned his gaze back on Albert with a sly glint. 

“Albert, what is _your_ stance on these... _softer matters of life_?” 

Oh boy. Albert _definitely_ didn't like the direction of conversation. He leant back in his seat and crossed his arms. He thought of a way to shut the query down but give Cooper enough that he would cease to question him further at later date. 

“I have to be practical Cooper. I think you will agree a generous description of myself would be something along the lines of a ‘sarcastic corpse doctor with zero regard for people's sensitivities’. I love _my career_ to the extent people have already commented that I'm married to it. These points hardly make me a catch.” He could see Cooper was about to respond. “Even _if_ someone did come along, in for the whole bag, it wouldn't work because relationships _are_ work and require effort and time which, in turn, would be much better spent on my job.”

Albert was glad to find his judgment in Cooper validated, because the guy didn't give him the ‘aww don't put yourself down’-spiel or the ‘there's someone out there for _everyone_ , even for _you_ ’-one either. Neither did he get chummy with ‘you could still always do one-night-stands’ or any other cookie cutter sentiments, misinterpreting Albert's views as an invitation to a pity party. Instead he nodded thoughtfully, apparently seeing the reason in Albert's words. 

Cooper wasn’t in the FBI for nothing though, he could be like a bloodhound on the trail, not letting something go until it has been looked at under every possible angle. It was a sentiment similar enough to Albert's own MO, which was probably what made them _work_. Although Albert wished he would keep his scrutiny for professional topics. 

“What if,” Cooper began and Albert rolled his eyes, “just by chance, what if all external circumstances were aligned just so, what if it just _did_ work?”

He looked at Albert with starry eyes.

“What would she be like, Albert?”

 _Oh_ , Albert was going to enjoy shooting that one down.

“So, basically, you're asking me what I jerk off to?”

A touch of red on Coopers pale cheeks - check. 

“Well, first of all it is not a _she_. Secondly I like them older. Preferably quite a bit older. Third, slightly slow on the uptake but in a position of power. Hearing aid is a plus.”

He kept his face even and waited. Cooper’s eyes narrowed. 

“Are you describing our superior, Gordon Cole?”

Albert couldn't help the smug grin.

“It was none of your business to ask in the first place.”

Cooper regarded him a moment longer before a smile spread across his face too.

“You're right, of course.”

\-----

Albert leant against the side of the desk, listening with calm attention to Gordon's briefing on the Palmer case, in which Albert was to support Cooper.

“-YOUR LOCAL CONTACT IS ONE SHERIFF HARRY S TRUMAN. FUNNY NAME, THAT.”

Gordon closely watched for Albert's reaction. Which, as always, arrived directly. 

“Yeah, real funny. If you're the kind who laughs at the funeral of two entire cities. The guy's parents must have been a riot. Who doesn't enjoy a bit of self-righteous mass murder with their saturday evening BBQ.” 

“SEE, ALBERT, I KNEW YOU WERE GOING TO SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT. I WOULD LIKE TO ENCOURAGE YOU TO LET THE MAN HIMSELF MAKE AN IMPRESSION ON YOU. TO HEAR COOPER TELL IT, HE IS ONE HELL OF A POLICEMAN.”

Albert sighed the sigh of those faced with great adversity, knowing to suppress his retort along the lines of ‘one hell of a gun toting backwater dimwit’ or, alternatively, ‘Cooper _would_ befriend a log’.

\-----

Albert was in his room at the Great Northern, holding an ice-pack to his still smarting cheek. He turned over what Gordon said to him about Truman before he left for Twin Peaks in his mind. The man had made an impression on Albert. With his fist. In Albert's face. Albert grunted a mirthless laugh, then grunted in pain as it jostled the ice on his cheek.

Albert decided he _really_ didn't like the guy. Superficially handsome but below that nothing but a violent brute, he was everything Albert feared he would be and then some. What Cooper saw in the idiot hick was beyond him. Perhaps he had a thing for big hair. 

Sure, his voice was reminiscent of the dulcet tones of the nighttime radio jockeys of old and so what if he looked as though he freshly stepped off a marble pedestal in some ancient Italian church. Admittedly, the guy's hair _was_ pretty swell. But what good was any of that when all he said was _dim_ to the point of pain and he dressed like he did so in the dark while following instructions from _Hillbilly Couture Monthly_ and, most damnably, when he silenced the voice he didn't want to hear with a punch to the mouth. 

_Drek_. 

Either way: First thing tomorrow, he was going to write up a nice report on the use of violence against an FBI agent and have Cooper sign it. 

\-----

Things had had been more bearable with the absurd tale of a woman losing her eye to brighten his day. Back at the Northern, a knock on the door made Albert frown over his James Bond novel. He quickly slid the book in the drawer of the bedside table and moved to open the door. 

“If this is room service with the orange juice I ordered three hours ago, I am going to go and complain to your bigwig boss _right now._ ” 

“Good evening, Albert.”

It was Cooper, also already in his pajamas, so Albert waved him in quickly. 

“What's got you wandering the hallways of this place in your sleepwear, Coop?” 

“Albert, I'd like to talk to you." 

Albert sat on the side of his bed, indicating the chair to Cooper and also his willingness to talk. 

“You're not going to like what I will say next, but in the light of it being a potential threat to the ongoing investigation-"

Albert frowned. This was clearly a continuation of Cooper’s confusion about ‘where his abrasiveness was coming from’. 

“-and as your _friend_ I feel that I have to force the issue.” 

He looked at Albert with an intense gaze, who raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms in response.

“It concerns the nature of your extreme abrasiveness towards this town in general and Sheriff Truman in particular.” 

There it was. Albert opened his mouth to reply but Cooper held up a hand before he could even say a word. 

“Please, let me finish. I know you to be extreme in some of your ways, particularly when it comes to things you perceive to be the truth. I also know that I also speak for the bureau when I say that this trait is a valuable part of your personality, but _Albert_ …”

Albert turned his head away. 

“I fail to see what is so hard to understand here. This town _in general_ and _the sheriff in particular_ are the best examples for everything that is _wrong_ with this kind of narrow-minded, hyper conservative small town-mentality based on the ‘good old values’ of bigotry and xenophobia.” Albert paused for breath and Cooper took the opportunity. 

“That is really not the kind of person Harry is.” He said it so _earnestly_ and with such _sadness_ , that Albert couldn't help but look at him again. 

“Albert, along with you and Gordon Cole, Harry Truman is one of the best people I have ever had the honor to meet. It troubles me to think you can't see that in him and makes me wonder if there is some additional problem…”

“You just want your _old_ best friend to also be friends with your _new_ best friend. But things don't work that way, Cooper.” 

“You're attempting to insinuate you might be jealous of my rapport with the sheriff for my sake, but I'm fairly certain that's not it.”

Albert narrowed his eyes.

“Just what exactly are you _implying_ here?” 

“I think you might be having a, uhm, _crush_ on Sheriff Truman, Albert.”

Not even the uncharacteristic verbal fumbling could take the punch out of that. Albert needed a second to find his breath. 

“That is utterly ridiculous. Not only would that be entirely unprofessional but also-”

“Entirely human. Albert, all kinds of people have developed crushes on their work acquaintances.”

Cooper proceeded to run off a list of people who fell in love on the job and did so with a _straight face_. 

“Now you're just mocking me. Did this come to you in another of your _dreams_ , Cooper?”

“Actually…”

Albert scoffed and successfully managed to prevent his imagination latching onto the notion of Truman and himself in the endless possibilities of a dream. 

“No. I merely made the connection based on the at first glance diametrically opposed facts of you being both unusually hurtful when around Sheriff Truman, and your prolonged gazing at him which causes a minute coloring of your cheeks.”

Albert jumped up from his position on the bed.

“I do not- my cheeks are none of your damn business!” 

Cooper continued calmly, “I realized both these traits in combination can often be found in-”

“You are treading very thin ice here, Coop.” 

“I'm sorry. I guess I did intend to mock you a little… However, Albert, you really should give Harry a chance. Trust me when I say he is deserving of it.”

“A chance to do what? Mock me, too?” Albert turned away from Cooper, crossing his arms again. 

“He _wouldn't_.”

Albert looked at Cooper without turning. He huffed and moved to the door.

“You've had your say and I guess I'll think about it. Now quit accosting me and let me sleep.” 

Cooper smiled and moved to leave.

“See you tomorrow, Albert.”

If Truman _did_ come to him in his dreams it was entirely Cooper's fault.

\-----

The dream that inevitably came to Albert that night:

It began as a replay of recent memory with Harry arguing with him. Albert couldn't make sense of the words they were saying. Maybe Harry had the top half of his shirt unbuttoned. It was a little distracting. Harry grabbed hold of his tie and Albert felt his heart racing and maybe that wasn't just adrenaline. Instead of a fist in the face Harry's lips met his own which was more surprising. More pleasant too. 

They were outside. Albert couldn't say how they got there. It didn't seem to matter. They were at the edge of the trees looking out. The sun was setting. The dark void of the woods seemed far away. There was a metaphor in there somewhere but all Albert could think about was the sunlight on Harry's hair. The light most vibrant and rich before it faded. Harry turned to look at him with his lopsided smile. There was such… softness to him. Albert thought he'd like to kiss him again. 

\-----

Harry was at his desk reaching for a donut when Cooper entered his office.

“Alright Coop, what's up?”

Cooper joined him in sitting, pulling out the chair opposite, setting his linked hands on the desk. 

“Harry, -”

Harry offered the plate of donuts to Cooper, who shook his head. 

“No thank you. Harry, this isn't easy for me, but a friend is in need of help and I will do what I can to provide it.”

Harry nodded slowly, beckoning Cooper to continue, mouth full of donut. 

“Harry. What do you think about Albert Rosenfield?”

Harry choked in surprise, coughed and cleared his throat before speaking. 

“Albert Rosenfield?”

Cooper nodded, expression serious.

“Albert Rosenfield.”

Harry looked at his donut, gathering his thoughts.

“Albert Rosenfield is…”, he swallowed, “...he is…”

Cooper smiled beatifically and nodded. 

“I understand perfectly.”

“You do?” Harry asked, with no disbelief at all. In fact he was unsure of what his own answer to the question was but would gladly accept Cooper’s answer on his behalf as the correct one.

“Yes.”

“How does he need help? I'm not sure I'm this best person for this Coop. He doesn't much like me.” An understatement to say the least.

“You don't need to do anything at present Harry,” Cooper assured him. “Don't be disheartened, Albert just takes some time to get used to people. You're doing fine.”

“Fine? I punched him,” Harry puzzled over the notion of being apparently ‘disheartened’. Was he? Well, things _would_ be easier if Albert could cooperate.

“Trust me Harry, Albert has a higher regard for you than you may think.”

\-----

Albert was back in Twin Peaks. With Cooper injured, Windom Earle on the loose and his thoughts on one sheriff still in disorder, there seemed to be enough reason for it. 

Albert, anxiously excited before entering the room (a feeling in his gut not unpleasant enough to pass off as nausea), found momentary reprieve in insulting the pair of teenagers that passed him and slamming the door. 

A snappy “gentlemen” and he was back on track, cool as a cucumber. But-

Harry smiled at him and his heart rate doubled. Harry's arm was reaching out before Albert had even turned towards him, they hugged. They were as close as it was possible for them to be, chests pressed together. Was Harry’s heart beating too? Albert took the decision to quickly slap his back, to make it manly and not awkward at all. Harry slapped back happily and barked out an equally happy “YEAH!” to Albert's “looking good there, Truman.”

Smooth.

_No hug for you, Cooper. don’t grin like that, things are about to turn grim, you smug asshat._

The corpse pointed at the chess piece, and Harry, bless his simple soul, asked a question. There was no fear there. Not a flinch expecting the sharp-edged put down that would have been so painfully easy to dish out. Just those big, dumb, beautiful brown eyes fully trusting him, Albert, to relay the needed information. 

If his explanation of the finer points of rigor mortis was positively _soft_ , it had to be attributed to the dire straits Cooper was about to enter and nothing else. 

Albert finished it off with a flourish: poking fun at how Cooper’s newfound _flannel brut_ style worked for him. It was a joke within a joke, really, as if they both weren't painfully aware of how much _rustic yokel_ did it for Albert lately.

Albert left the station feeling light on his feet and a not unpleasant fluttering in his stomach. 

\-----

On the shuttle to Seattle, Albert mused as he watched the landscape rush by.

It was frustrating, in a way, to constantly be called off at the drop of a hat. At least the regular investigators, like Cooper, got to see things through to their logical conclusion. Yet here he was, rushing on to the next corpse waiting for him (in D.C. of all places, shouldn't they have enough local forensic scientists there?) while his head, his _heart_ , was still involved in the going ons of that damnable little hellhole he just left. 

How would Cooper fare with Windom Earle on his tail and taking no prisoners? Albert wasn't beyond feeling some contempt at Gordon Cole for sending him to Cooper’s side only to bring him the latest updates like some delivery boy in an expensive suit. Windom Earle was a formidable foe to face and he could have _helped_ , dammit. 

Then the mess with the sheriff's crazy crook of a girlfriend. For two separate but equally personal reasons he would very much have liked to be around to see her go down. How dare the bitch attempt to put a hole in Cooper, who wasn't even truly involved or interested in her shady soap-opera scheming. Just for getting too close to the truth she was willing to kill a good man like Coop. No doubt sooner or later her unfortunate beau would have met a similar end. 

How did he take the news? Another conclusion his erratic assignments kept him from. He had seen the look on Harry’s face as he came to tell Cooper about the traces of gunsmoke on her gloves. There had been a hurt shining from those eyes, in stark contrast to their usual look. Come to think of it, this Harry S. Truman always had a sort of warmth about him. Even in anger there was an underlying fondness for whatever he was fighting on the behalf of and getting worked up over. Usually his forsaken cesspit of a hometown and it's freakish residents. Not that any of it was remotely deserving of the sentiment, in Albert’s opinion. 

Either way, the man had looked devastated, or rather, in passive expectation of devastation, which was almost worse. Here was something he could have got angry about: his girlfriend playing him like a fiddle; not contented with perhaps having an affair behind his back, oh no, this one went out and left a trail of bodies like she was shooting ducks at a fun fair. He trusted her, must have, Truman was definitely the kind to trust unconditionally, and she betrayed that trust in the worst way. Yet no anger, no self-righteousness, only that deeply sad look. 

Truman was a gullible love-sick fool to have ever been involved with her but Albert couldn't bring himself to think any less of him for it. He only thought of his eyes and how delicately Cooper was handling the situation. Albert thought she'd been given far too many chances but the chosen method of resolution wasn't about Josie was it?

Albert sighed. Perhaps it was a good thing, him leaving at this point. He knew himself well enough to be aware of what a lousy shoulder to cry on he made. Especially when he couldn't exactly be said to be neutral, what with the petty but fierce stab of joy the thought of Josie Packard going down brought him. Again, two separate but equally personal reasons for it. 

No, maybe it was for the best Cooper was there to keep the situation under control. Cooper was definitely the man he would want for the job. 

Looking into the future, if Cooper made true on his wishes for a more permanent quaint small-town life, there were chances. Chances to perhaps set foot into this neck of the woods without wanting to strangle it. Chances for meetings under more happy, unattached tidings. 

Another sigh. Until then, he had work to do. 

\-----

Of course Cooper disappeared and Albert was left to try and pick up the pieces. Hell, even _find_ any pieces. He could no longer stand anything about the place. Especially Harry S. Truman.

The man was shaken by what he'd seen and his condition had worsened having to investigate the situation. Albert couldn't care. Harry hadn't done enough. He'd been stupid and he'd _waited_ all damn night. Albert hated him for it. It was easier to lay the blame elsewhere and he could cling to it to erase any other thought he might have ever had about the fool. 

They fought because Albert never held back with his opinions. Harry said he was disrupting the investigation. Albert bit back that Harry had done a fine job of that himself. Harry clearly tried to be the better person and avoided him.

Albert had driven past him one night, stumbling his way home. Albert had no sympathy, only exasperation. He didn't help him. Drinking himself to oblivion wasn't going to help the case. Harry had to help himself.

It got worse. It seemed they couldn't speak to each other without raised voices. Eventually they came to blows again - it had only been a matter of time. Perhaps Albert had wanted it to solidify his original opinion that Harry was nothing but a violent country hick.

This time Albert _was_ dragged away from the case for it. So he left Twin Peaks behind and vowed to never set foot there again. Any straying thoughts Cooper had seeded in Albert's mind about a particular resident had vanished with him. 

Albert hadn't expected them to be dredged up exactly a year later in Truman's home, the man himself shaking beside him, wringing his hands. He thought about Cooper and what he'd said of Harry. He had been right of course, he always was. So he stilled Harry's hands with his own and told him truthfully that it hadn't been anyone's fault. 

If he dreamt about the feeling of Harry's hair beneath his fingers it was nobody's damn business.

**Author's Note:**

> [trufield: I'm so psyched about linking this series into The Return after the finale. Whatever may happen, rest assured there will be wholesome goodness over here]
> 
> Albert [totally not crushing on](http://superkamiokande.tumblr.com/post/166515279442/art-for-the-2nd-trufield-zine) a big dumb sheriff


End file.
